


others may deceive you

by Eirwyn



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, more panicked fics about that fucking ending, spoilers for episode 57
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7277728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eirwyn/pseuds/Eirwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He will pay. He will die. And he will die believing that someone who he loved and trusted raised a blade against him. There will other people to visit later, but this revenge is a good start.</p>
<p>A two-parter set either side of THAT scene at the end of episode 57.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So after I got over the three million heart attacks Matt Mercer so kindly decided to give me nearly a week ago, I had exactly two questions, apart from the obvious ones (the obvious ones being: where's Gilmore? Is he alive? How much money do I have to give them to make sure my boy stays safe?)
> 
> Those two questions: How did the Rakshasa find Whitestone and how did it know to choose Gilmore?
> 
> So I googled Rakshasas and apart from finding out some terrifying information about how difficult they are to fight, I noticed that they have a basic ability to read surface thoughts. Which answered both of those questions, but I wanted to fic it, because I have too many feelings and too much time on my hands.

_Pain. Endless searing pain, the kind that means you should be dead except being dead is why this pain exists, twisting and coiling around and around. Bones rebuilding, muscles and tendons attaching and growing, skin coalescing, fur sprouting out the skin, teeth bursting through the skin and blood, blood, so much blood, down its throat down its nose drowning_ **drowning _drowning_** screaming **screaming _screaming_** he will **pay** he will **pay** he will **die**.

It’s first breath of air in the material plane was perhaps the sweetest taste it had ever known, but this one was pretty close, cool and clean. The Rakshasa had never heard of Whitestone before, but after wandering around Vasselheim for a bit, it had finally overheard some lead about the agent of the Slayer’s Take that had killed it. That had led it to Emon, carefully avoiding the dragons, where it had finally heard the name Whitestone.

Whitestone was a cold, quiet town, with a castle overlooking it. It seemed as if the town had been through some hardship, but was now recovering, and with the sudden influx of refugees, it was easy for the Rakshasa to use an unassuming face to blend in with the crowd and wait for its opportunity.

The half-elf was suspicious and well-armed, as were his friends. The Rakshasa knew that if it stood a chance of making his tormentor and murderer pay for the suffering and torture it had undergone because of him, it would have to be stealthy about it. It knew that it couldn’t choose a face that belonged to the adventuring party he had met; the half-elf would know those faces too well. It would have to think of another way.

It watched, and waited, watching the rhythms and patterns of the town, noting the people who seemed important and cosying up to them, wanting to get into the castle, even if it had to suffer through the ignobility of being a _servant_. It only took two days for it to pay off. The Rakshasa saw two people walking towards him, talking and smiling, not paying attention to one person. One, it knew, was the Lady of the castle, but the other it hadn’t seen before, a handsome man, dressed brightly and immaculately groomed, dark hair and goatee neatly styled. The only thing about him that seemed off was his gait. He walked as if he had been wounded recently.

It activated its ability to read surface thoughts and simultaneously listened to the conversation and the thoughts of the two people. The Lady Cassandra was explaining the history of the castle, as well as recounting some of the more recent events that had apparently transpired there, whilst the man, _Gilmore_ , Lady Cassandra was calling him, _Gilmore, my brother’s friend, not the sort of person I expected Percival to be associating with but then none of them are_ , and Gilmore was respectfully paying attention, apparently the absolute model of polite curiosity, _all these things I never knew, the terrors that these people have gone through and my friends, my friends they helped, there are so many things Vax’ildan never told me and oh, that boy, I hope he’s safe I hope he’s safe safe safe_.

They passed by the Rakshasa, not noticing that a servant boy had stopped dead still from what he was doing. Vax’ildan. The name it had been searching for, desperate to overhear either mentally or out loud and there it was, finally, and thought about with such tender fondness, such concern. That man, that Gilmore, he was the one. He was the Rakshasa’s way in. Now it just had to stick as close to him as possible, so that when that half-elf returned, he would believe that before him stood his dear friend.

The Rakshasa smiled a smile that, just for a moment, appeared to have too many teeth, and started to follow behind Gilmore and Lady Cassandra.

A few days later, the half-elf and his friends came back. Gilmore had fallen ill, not seriously but enough so that he couldn’t be disturbed, and the Rakshasa focused on the group, listening carefully to the half-elf. It wasn’t enough that this Gilmore appeared fond of Vax’ildan. He had to be fond of Gilmore as well. He had to trust him.

_After everything Pike’s done and he’s ill. I want to see him, want to make sure he’s okay, after everything he deserves a break, but I shouldn’t be around him not now not like this I’ve hurt him enough already. Can’t hurt him again, would rather hurt myself than him, won’t won’t won’t_.

Oh, now that was perfect.

The band of adventurers left the next day, and the Rakshasa began to manoeuvre himself closer to Gilmore, making sure to keep a constant eye on his surface thoughts, as much as it could manage do so, seeing as the spell was hard to keep up continuously, and when it was focussing so hard on thoughts, it missed things being said out loud, and the Rakshasa couldn’t afford to stick out so much.

It was interesting, because far from not having enough of an idea of how Gilmore felt about the half-elf, the Rakshasa was almost getting too much information. _Everything_ seemed to remind this human about him. It could be anything. The thoughts could be as far away from Vax’ildan as it was possible to be; business, magic, farming even, and then a word would be said, or a colour seen, or a fabric touched, and his mind would be filled with memories of that half-elf. 

And what memories. A more perfect bait the Rakshasa would be hard-pressed to find. Memories of days spent together, wine and food and laughter, talking that came so easily to both of them, even when the subject was hard, walking arm-in-arm through the streets of a city now destroyed and under a dragon’s rule and more endless joy. Sometimes the memories would shade bittersweet, a kiss ( _the kiss, that kiss_ ) that was both the best and worst moment of their time together, the thrill of it being bestowed and the sadness that it was given only as a goodbye.

The more the Rakshasa saw, the more it gorged itself on stolen thoughts, the closer it came, every time, to being accurate. It must be accurate, because it had no intention of being killed again, going through that _pain, agony, torment_ again. Vax’ildan must believe that the person stood before him was Gilmore, precious friend and trusted confidante, otherwise the Rakshasa would get nowhere near him. 

The Rakshasa started trying test runs, spending an hour or two as Gilmore just to see if anyone gave it strange looks or asked him what was wrong. So far, nobody. It could walk around Whitestone as Gilmore and nobody gave it a second glance, nobody looked at it questioningly when it spoke. Magic was no issue. It was ready. Just one last thing, one last little curiosity before it was fully prepared. How did Gilmore talk about the adventurers?

One day, as the Rakshasa, in its servant boy disguise, was helping Gilmore in his new workshop along with his assistant, the Rakshasa adopted a hesitant tone and asked. “M’lord? Do you know Vox Machina well?”

Gilmore nodded absently, focussing on the magic in his hands. “I do. Why do you ask?”

“Well, they’re so brave and powerful, I just wanted to know more about them. They saved this town!”

“Indeed they did. I’m afraid I can’t tell you much. They’re my friends, but I don’t adventure with them, so much of their work is mere abstract to me. Vax makes it a point to tell me some of their more… colourful moments, on occasion.”

“Vax?”

“Vax’ildan. The male half-elf.” The Rakshasa wondered if Gilmore was aware of his expression changing as he spoke about Vax’ildan, the absent concentration shifting into a helpless little smile and his eyes lighting up. “I don’t know why he does it, but it became a habit, back in Emon. I hope they’re all doing all right.”

The Rakshasa greedily took in Gilmore’s face and mannerisms, and that night, after his quarry had returned triumphant from Westruun having killed a chromatic dragon, after being welcomed into a space that he thought safe, after he had seen a face he trusted invite him to a quiet place, the Rakshasa wore the face he had cultivated and took his revenge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may interest people to know that the working title of this fic was '*frightened jazz hands*'. The actual title comes from the song 'No One Is Alone' from Into The Woods.
> 
> Please God, let this remain canon enough so that Gilmore is alive and unhurt, and Vax is alive and unhurt. That's all I want. Any cute conversation would just be a bonus.

Waking up was a lot harder than Gilmore remembered it being. He could hear knocking at his door, so constant that it sounded as if there were multiple hands hammering on the solid wooden door. He tried to force his eyes open, tried to sit up, or call out, but the fog covering his senses wouldn’t shift. Now the knocking had turned into the handle being jiggled, shouts and panic and the sounds turned into heavy rhythmic thumps, until there was a short, sharp exclamation and an _explosion_. Gilmore would have jumped, if his body hadn’t felt so heavy.

He managed to turn his head, his eyes barely open, and saw his door bang open and Vax tumble through it, followed closely by his sister, then Percy, then Pike, and then all the rest of them. At least, Gilmore guessed that all of them had piled in, because his vision was obstructed by Vax dropping to his knees at the side of the bed and reaching out a hand to tap Gilmore’s face.

“Gilmore? Gilmore, are you awake? Can you hear me?”

Gilmore tried to smile, but he barely managed to lift the corners of his mouth. Tried to raise a hand, but couldn’t get it more than a couple of inches off the bed. Tried to speak, to say a sentence, but the minute he tried, he could hear the slurring in his voice, and just about managed to coherently reply. “Vax.”

Vax’s face had got more and more worried as Gilmore had tried to communicate, and before Gilmore had even managed to say something, he had looked over his shoulder and called. “Pike! Pike, what’s wrong with him?”

Pike stepped forward, but Percival was the one who replied, holding the cup out of which Gilmore had been drinking before he settled down for the night. “I tasted some of this. It’s bitter, Pike, I think he’s been drugged.”

“Drugged?” asked Keyleth’s voice. Gilmore couldn’t see her from where he was. “Why would it drug him? It could have used magic to keep him away. It could have _killed_ him.”

“Not really helping, Keyleth.” Percy said quietly. “Also, drugging is significantly less obvious. Gilmore would know if he’d had magic performed on him. Drugging just means that tomorrow, he would have presumed he slept more heavily than normal. Which I’m pretty sure that's all this is, by the way, Vax.”

Gilmore could feel Vax’s hand shaking against his face where Vax had left it, as Vax replied. “I don’t care. Pike, can you help him? We can’t leave him like this.”

Pike reached for her symbol in one hand, and Gilmore watched as she placed a hand on his forehead. The symbol began to glow and Pike’s eyes slipped closed as a wave of warmth rushed through Gilmore’s body, filling him up from head to toe before slowly fading away, taking the fog and heaviness of the drug with it.

Gilmore immediately opened his eyes and sat up, catching Vax’s hand as he withdrew it and said. “Thank you again, Pike, but I do have to ask, what in the Nine Hells is going on?”

Vox Machina, almost as one, all shuddered, except Grog, who just blurted out. “We just killed you. Except it _wasn’t_ you, it just _looked_ like you. It was weird. Then Vax got all panicky about where you where, so we came here.”

Vax rolled his eyes and stood up again, a little shakily Gilmore noted, and said sarcastically. “Thanks so much for describing me like an overprotective parent, Grog, but I’m pretty sure we were all worried about what happened to you, Gilmore.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you, I’m sure.” Gilmore began. “And thank you for your… succinct explanation Grog, but if you all don’t mind, could we start at the beginning? Who drugged me?”

He probably should have thought that through, because six of them started talking simultaneously, words tripping over words and all of them not making any sense. Most notably though, Vax was completely silent, still stood next to the bed not far from where Gilmore was sitting, head angled down and one hand still resting on his stomach. But it was the look on his face that made Gilmore hold up a hand for silence and said. “I think I only need a couple of people to explain. If the twins wouldn’t mind? And Keyleth as well?”

The two girls nodded, but Vax just hunched in further on himself. However, he made no move to leave with the others, but equally didn’t move as the girls settled themselves on the bed. Keyleth leaned forward and hugged him, saying. “I’m so pleased you’re okay, Gilmore.”

“My dear, if I managed to survive a dragon only to get taken out by… whatever this was, the world would implode from the unfairness of it all.”

She nodded. “It was a Rakshasa.”

Gilmore frowned. “A devil from the Nine Hells. Why was it imitating me? I’m fabulous but I’m not nearly important enough for a Rakshasa to want to take my place.”

Keyleth opened her mouth, looked over at Vax, paused and then replied. “Actually, Vax should tell you that. It, well, Vax should tell you.”

Gilmore also looked over at where Vax was still standing, coiled up like a trapped wild animal, and prompted gently. “Vax’ildan?”

“You were bait.” Came the whispered reply. “Somehow the Rakshasa knew that if you knocked on my door late at night and asked me to go somewhere with you, I would go, no questions asked, and that’s exactly what it did.”

Vax looked at Gilmore properly now, and Gilmore almost flinched from how much pain was in Vax’s eyes as he continued. “The worst thing is, right up until a few seconds before that thing put a blade in me, I thought it was you. I thought it was you, but I should have known better. I should have been able to see right through it, and I couldn’t, and I’m sorry."

Gilmore waved a hand. “Vax, unless you’ve made a habit of being permanently suspicious of me, which I really hope you haven’t, though I would certainly understand it now, you could never have known. I certainly had no idea, and it must have been watching me quite closely, which is... uh, quite discomforting.”

“It’s dead now.” Vex added, shrugging. “Can’t hurt us when it’s dead.”

“But we thought it was dead before.” Keyleth argued. “And yet somehow it turned up here, and tried to kill Vax. I would have sworn we killed it before.”

“Maybe you didn’t kill it hard enough. This time Grog got involved so….”

Gilmore listened to them bicker for a few minutes, before a thought occurred to him, and so he asked. “Wait, this Rakshasa, you have seen it before? And killed it? Where?”

Keyleth frowned. “Yeah, we saw it before in Vasselheim. It was mine and Vax’s trial to enter the Slayer’s Take. We had to track it down and kill it. We did.”

“Killed it? Here? I mean, in this plane. Not in the Nine Hells?”

Keyleth’s frown deepened. “Well, yeah, both times, Vax struck the killing blow. Slit its throat on Vex’s behalf the first time around. On your behalf this time.”

“Kiki….” That was Vax, sounding both embarrassed and a little faint, but Gilmore didn’t have much time to pay attention as he buried his face in his hands briefly, before saying. “Well, that explains that. It was here for revenge, and it’ll do it again. You can’t kill Rakshasas, not in this plane. When you killed it in Vasselheim, it went back to the Nine Hells, reformed, and came back for revenge on the person who killed it. Usually they take their revenge on the family and friends as well.”

Vax had gone worryingly pale. “It’s not dead?”

Gilmore shook his head, and then frowned, looking closer at Vax. His face was pale, and he was swaying very slightly back and forth. His hand was still on his stomach, but now, when Gilmore looked closer, he could see the bloom of red blood and the steady drip of it over Vax’s long fingers. He got up and reached for the wound as he said loudly. “Vax, you’re bleeding. Have you been wounded this whole time?”

Keyleth and Vex both jumped to their feet, but they weren’t quick enough as Vax crumpled forward. Gilmore caught him and lowered him to the floor, turning him so that his head was in Gilmore’s lap, and remembering the time that their roles were reversed. “Can either of you heal?”

Now Vax’s hand had gone limp and fallen away from his body, Gilmore could see the blood soaked into his clothes and the tear where the blade has presumably entered Vax’s body. Vex carefully peeled the robe back, muttering the whole time about idiot brothers who didn’t tell anyone that they were still hurt because they were too busy trying to get themselves killed on everybody else’s behalves and Keyleth reached forward with hands that glowed green and laid them on the wound.

Gilmore heard all three of them blow out a breath in relief as the blood trickling from the wound stop flowing as it sealed most of the way. Vex also laid her hands on the wound, glowing the same sort of green but with less intensity, and the wound vanished, leaving only a scar. Vax was still unconscious, but breathing, and his colour had recovered somewhat.

“That _idiot_!” Vex growled. “Ooh, just wait until he wakes up….”

Gilmore quirked a smile at the dichotomy of anger and fierce protectiveness in Vex’s tone. The twins’ relationship was one of the stranger things Gilmore had seen, but having no siblings himself, it was hard to understand for him. Keyleth, on the other hand, was quite subdued and when Gilmore glanced over at her to check she was all right, she met his eyes with a sigh and said. “So, the Rakshasa’s going to come back? And try and kill him again?”

Gilmore nodded. “I’m sorry, but yes, almost certainly. You either kill it in the Nine Hells, or you trap it, because nothing else will stop it. It will come back over and over until it considers its revenge satisfied.”

“Shit.”

Gilmore huffed a laugh. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” He sighed. “You girls better go and get some rest. I’ll look after Vax until he wakes up. I certainly won’t be going back to sleep now.”

After the girls left, Vex with parting kisses to both her brother and Gilmore himself, Gilmore picked up Vax’s limp body and carried him back to his chambers, settling him into the bed and settling himself beside Vax, waiting for him to wake up. It didn’t take long. Less than ten minutes had passed before Vax’s eyes blinked open and focused on Gilmore. Again, Gilmore couldn’t help but remember the time where their positions had been reversed, and he himself had woken up to see Vax watching him.

Vax’s eyes were still a little hazy as he murmured. “Am I dreaming?”

Gilmore reached out and squeezed Vax’s hand gently. “No, feel. You’re awake.”

“Where am I?”

“Your chambers at Whitestone.”

Vax sat up, then leant back against the headboard of his bed and sighed. “I fainted, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. Probably because you failed to tell your healer than you had an open stomach wound. Please, Vax, a small attempt at self-preservation would be much appreciated.”

Vax shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I was… focussed on other things.” His voice suddenly got very quiet as he added. “I thought it had killed you.”

Gilmore gripped Vax’s hand again and said just as quietly. “I’m okay, but you might not have been.” Then, attempting to make his voice sound more light-hearted, he continued. “As a fair warning, I think Vex is going to yell at you.”

Vax snorted. “Yeah, her, and then Keyleth three days later in an attempt to make it stick.”

“Has it?”

Vax smiled crookedly. “What do you think? Not yet, no.”

There was silence for a few minutes with Gilmore still holding Vax’s hand and Vax making no move to take his hand away, before Gilmore shifted slightly and said seriously. “Vax, I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Vax jerked in surprise and immediately insisted. “You didn’t!”

“Well, I know it wasn’t me, but for you, it was. For you, it was someone you trusted stabbing you in the stomach and I’m sorry for the pain that caused. I’m sorry.”

Vax shook his head, face suddenly distant as he replied. “Betrayal, for the fraction of a second I felt it before I worked what was going on, is the ugliest feeling. I expect betrayal from most everyone I come in contact with, it’s just how my life has been lived, but I never ever expected it from you. For some reason, I just trusted you, and I hate that the Rakshasa tried to change that. I’m almost pleased he’s coming back, just so I can kill him again for that.”

“ _Please_ be careful.”

“I will. I promise.”

Gilmore swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “I will hold you to that, Vax’ildan. I am still… excessively fond of you. You don’t get leave without saying goodbye.”

This time it was Vax increasing the pressure on their clasped hands as he said. “I am very fond of you as well, Gilmore. Never doubt that.”

Gilmore smiled, then tipped his head back and sighed as he said. “Well, I promised your sister and Keyleth that I would look after you until you woke up. You’ve had a harrowing evening, so I’ll leave you to your rest.”

Gilmore let go of Vax’s hand and stood up from the bed, but he had barely taken two steps before Vax called out. “Wait!”

Gilmore stopped and turned, one eyebrow raised as a question. Vax fiddled with the bedcovers as he continued. “I killed you today. The Rakshasa, towards the end, it assumed your face again, trying to get us to hesitate or pull our blows. I… I’ve seen you die today, Gilmore. If you don’t mind, can you stay? I just… need you here. I need to see that you’re still alive. Please?”

Gilmore was already back beside the bed before Vax had finished speaking, and he sat down and made himself comfortable as he said. “Of course I will stay, Vax. But what _will_ we talk about?”

Vax grinned. “I don’t know if you heard, but we killed a dragon.”

Gilmore grinned back, feeling lighter and happier than he had in a long time, patted Vax’s hand and said. “Tell me _everything_.”


End file.
